Flickers
by caslouise
Summary: After being captured by grounders Clarke makes her way back to the Camp Jaha, injured and slightly delirious. She is plagued with memories of moments spent with Bellamy. Oneshot xx


**I've been pretty slaaaack with my other stories but I was feeling inspired to do a oneshot so here it is! Enjoy xx**

The air felt so heavy, how could it feel so _heavy? _It pressed around me, every time I inhaled it felt as though someone had their heavy boot on my chest, _pushing pushing pushing. _I barely knew which direction I was moving in, the cut along my hairline was sending waves of pain through my head and I couldn't find a single part of me that didn't hurt. I stumbled once, twice, too many times to keep count, it felt as though I spent more time scrabbling at the ground, rocks cutting into my palms, than I did on my two feet moving forward.

My vision was fuzzy and I kept spacing out.

"_Hold my hand," I laughed reaching toward his fingers, my head light with moonshine, "Seriously Bellamy, it's not bad, it's just dancing!"_

_He shook his head, clasping his hands into fists at his sides, the firelight flickering against his skin, "Don't, Clarke, I can't dance, this is stupid."_

_I rolled my eyes, wrapping my fingers around his wrist and yanking him toward me. Too hard unfortunately. His didn't budge and instead I stumbled forward and smacked against his chest and he had to grasp my waist to pull me upright. His face was so close. _

_The firelight was kissing his cheekbones and I had never wanted to be fire so much in my life._

The toe of my boot hit a root and I fell, my palms slamming into the ground in front of me, my head spinning. Wincing I pulled myself to my feet, pushing myself to keep moving. I knew that the grounders would soon discover that I'd escaped, discover the unconscious guard who I had taken out by slamming the blunt end of my dagger to his temple. Only after attaining the multiple injuries that were now slowing me down.

I figured that my head wound wasn't bad as it hadn't rendered me unconscious, but I could feel a twinge in my shoulder that screamed in blinding pain every time I caught myself when I tripped. I suspected dislocation from being kicked in the shoulder. Not to mention the bruises that I knew were blooming across my skin and the blood loss.

Blood was only a reminder.

"_Hold still, stop, seriously Bellamy if you weren't squirming this would go so much easier—"_

"_It's just a scratch, no need to make such a fuss." He grumbled, averting his eyes from where I was dressing the gash on his stomach._

"_Don't be dumb, it's a knife wound, if we didn't properly dress it you could die." I reprimanded, rolling my eyes at him._

_He winced as I poured alcohol onto the wound and the skin on his face paled and I felt his fingers grab onto my hip for support. _

_I glanced at him in surprise and his eyes met with mine all dark and warm and bare, and I swear I felt his thumb brush over the skin only lower back, gentle._

I didn't know how far the camp was. I didn't know where the camp was. It was difficult to miss and I couldn't see it. All I could see was green and brown and green and brown a kaleidoscope of green and brown and _pain. _I wanted to run, how far could it possibly be? It hadn't felt this far when they had taken me back to their camp. But had I been unconscious? I could be heading in the completely wrong direction.

I forced myself to come to a completely stop and leaned up against a tree, the bark rough against my jacket, and inhaled sharply, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. I wanted to reopen them with renewed clarity but my head still felt heavy and the wound on my hairline was throbbing.

I took a few moments to breathe before surveying the area around me. Surely there was something to recognize. I had personally placed coloured markers in the trees closest to the Camp Jaha.

The sound of a stick cracking broke me from my reverie and a dread filled me like a cold embrace.

No no no no no no no no no

The grounder emerged some twenty metres from me and I was surprised to see that he didn't know where I was. But he was very nearly about to find out if he continued to glance around as he was, his fingers poised on his spear. I bit down hard on my lip in an attempt to clear the haze that was my current mind state. I reached slowly down to pull the dagger from my boot, wrapping my fingers firmly around the handle with my right hand. Luckily the suspected dislocation was in my left shoulder which allowed me access still to my right throwing hand.

This dagger had rendered one grounder unconscious, why not another? I knew even as that thought crossed my mind that it would be impossible – the knife was too far to throw from this distance and I wouldn't survive a close quarters attack.

I tried to even out my breathing and think quickly as the grounder was moving slowly in my direction, as if he had caught my scent.

I needed to think.

"_Your upper body isn't strong enough," He made it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the universe, "You can't be successful in hand to hand combat without some upper body strength."_

"_Not everyone is born with a six pack and tree trunk arms." I said, miffed, aware that I sounded childish._

_A grin tugged up the corner of his mouth and he stepped toward me, scooping up a rock as if it weighed nothing and passing it to me, "Look Clarke, I know that you'll attempt to fight no matter what, I am just trying to help make that fighting a little more successful."_

_I pretended to toss my hair over my shoulders, "Alright, give it to me."_

_He dropped the rock in my two hands and I very nearly overbalanced forward at the unexpected weight. Luckily I managed to hide my inner turmoil and keep hold the _boulder _and maintain some sort of dignity. _

_He grinned even wider and an odd expression crossed his face before he leant forward suddenly, pressing his lips to my cheek. _

_Needless to say I dropped the rock. _

I shook my head as I reached for a suitable sized rock, biting back a hiss of pain as some of the weight fell to my injured shoulder. The grounder was almost upon the tree I was hiding behind and I bit down harder on my lip, lifting the rock up and just as he rounded the tree I swung my arms toward him. He barely registered my presence before the rock made contact with the side of his head and he dropped to the ground, out.

I couldn't help the cry that escaped my lips at the sudden movement and I dropped to a crouch, cradling my injured arm and trying to hold back the traitorous tears that were threatening to escape. I gasped slowly, my vision blurry with pain.

After what felt like a year of blinding pain I slowly pulled myself to my feet. There. I had been facing the wrong direction, to my right I could glimpse the camp through the trees, in my disorientation I had basically been treading my way around the edge of the camp.

I staggered toward it, the sight of it more beautiful than anything I'd ever seen in my life.

I could see the gate and the guards had spotted me. There was talk, and the gates were opening and someone was coming toward me. My vision was beginning to get spotty and I knew that my legs were about to give way. Just a bit further, the figure was running now, and his hair was unruly and one hand was pressed against his chest to keep the gun steady and his eyes were scared and his chest was rising up and down up and down.

I pitched forward, and he was there, his arms catching me and we both fell to the ground. His lips were in my hair, at my ear, whispering unintelligible comforts, his arms so warm around my body. He pulled away, his palms pressed to the sides of my face, his eyes searching my unfocused ones, "God, I thought you were dead." He whispered and there was salty water in his eyes and his lips were suddenly pressed to my forehead, warm and relieved.

"My shoulder," I murmured, barely able to remain conscious, "Dislocated."

Gingerly he wrapped he draped my uninjured arm around his shoulders and lifted me up into his arms, one arm under my knees and the other supporting my back, my cheek pressed against the warm skin on his neck. He smelt like the forest at night and the cocoa we made at camp and smoky warmth. His lips were buried in my hair and he whispering reassurances and I pressed my lips to the pulse on his neck and he whispered something in my ear that sounded a lot like, _please don't scare me again._

**Let me know what you think and if you think I should do more oneshots in the future! I've never really done them before so let me know ((-: **


End file.
